


Sink, Touch, Skin

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Reibert - Freeform, Titan Meta, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner is standing at the edge of the forest, just staring off into the blackness of the trees and what lies beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sink, Touch, Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the anon tumblr prompt: "I hope it's not too late for reibert promt ;A; This is kinda weird, but what if Reiner is sleep-walking (this could be caused by his mental issues) and Bertl always have to look after him at night - calming him down and returning him to the bed, and he does it so carefully and gentle because he cares about Reiner and feels bad and kinda guilty about Reiner's issues."

Falling asleep doesn’t come naturally to Bertolt. He’s always envied people like Reiner who can simply fall into bed and resemble a bear going into hibernation within mere minutes. He wouldn’t call his own inability to do the same insomnia exactly, but more of a war with his own body. 

When he was growing up and first learning to use his Titan abilities, he constantly felt like he had a fever. He fought against it—his human body against his Titan physiology—and spent many sleepless nights, quietly crying in frustration and agony. No one ever knew; not even Reiner. He felt ashamed of being so weak, but eventually, he figured out how to cope. Bertolt has always preferred to do his suffering in private.

Now the sweat that’s always on his skin and the heat he can feel glowing inside of him are comforting reminders of who and what he is. 

No matter where he is, though, he has a process to lead himself into actual slumber.

The first step is to accept what he cannot change; and so he closes his eyes and lets his own human body slowly sink into the Titan’s hot core. He stops fighting it.

The second step is to find a unique touchstone that reminds him of where he is in physical space. When he was very small, it was his own bed. Later, it depended on where they were: tree bark in the forest, the cool, smooth stone of human houses, even Reiner, when everything else was too chaotic. Bertolt’s preferred thing to touch now is a place along the wood frame of his bunk where some former cadet—apparently an idealist—has carved the Wings of Freedom. There’s something about feeling the symbol with his fingertips that’s harrowing, and it keeps Bertolt grounded.

The third step is to turn over and then touch Reiner’s shoulder, to remember that they’re together. They’ve both been trained to survive on their own, should the need arise. But they both know that the only one who might be able to survive alone is Annie; and even then, maybe not. Bertolt tries not to think too much about how much he’d sacrifice—whether he’d dismiss the mission and everything else he’s lived for—to protect Reiner and Annie, because the answer frightens him.

Nevertheless, the third step is what always finally lulls Bertolt to sleep. There was never any question about who was sharing Reiner’s bunk when they all claimed their beds that first night.

Bertolt is now approaching two days without sleep, though. He has a higher tolerance for it, given what he is, but even he’s reaching his limit.

The reason for that is that for two nights in a row, he’s turned over to find Reiner missing.

The first night, Reiner had gotten up and Bertolt figured it was for something practical, like the bathroom or water. But then he hadn’t returned for an hour, and Bertolt had gone out looking for him.

He found Reiner near one of the woodsheds, looking confused, his eyes only half open with the whites showing. In some strange, surreal way, he looked like a very fatigued and disoriented version of what humankind called the “Armored Titan.”

“Reiner,” Bertolt whispered in shock, “what are you doing?”

Reiner had just shook his head and slurred in a sleep-heavy voice, “I have to go home. I have to go...”

Bertolt never had to be the strong one. He never had to be the one who made the decisions or put on a convincing show; he was there in the background as a very sturdy support, and a friend. But he wasn’t Reiner.

“Um,” he replied, trying to keep the horror out of his voice, “let’s go back to bed. Okay?”

“Bertl?” Reiner whispered, blinking and coming to. “What the hell are we doing out here?”

Bertolt just sighed. It was cold out, but Reiner hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt (sleeping near Bertolt guaranteed that any issues with Reiner stripping down to the bare minimum of clothing were quickly dismissed), and he shivered.

“You were sleepwalking,” Bertolt replied uneasily.

Reiner had swallowed hard and just faced Bertolt with a brooding stare; Reiner’s serious expressions were always hard and stony, regardless of his tendencies to be nurturing, and even silly at times.

They hadn’t said anything else, and Bertolt had put a protective hand against the small of Reiner’s back as they walked back to the bunks.

He’d completed his three steps, and then wrapped an arm around Reiner’s waist; it was a practical maneuver to make Reiner didn’t get up again, but it was also comforting.

Reiner’s presence has always comforted Bertolt.

After lying there for a few minutes, Reiner had confided quietly: “I’ve been having dreams.”

“What kinds of dreams?” Bertolt asked softly, getting closer and giving into the urge to press his entire body against Reiner’s side and rest his head in the crook of one strong shoulder. 

“Bad ones,” Reiner replied simply, settling in and wrapping his arm around Bertolt properly.

Bertolt had made a meditative noise of acknowledgement; but he didn’t have much else to offer.

The second night persisted in much the same fashion, only Reiner hadn’t gotten far this time. Just to the door of the bunks, until Bertolt had awoken and seen him on his way.

“Where are you going?” he’d asked softly as Reiner had stepped outside.

The whites of his eyes were showing again, and it almost seemed like he was looking up at the stars, the way his head had tilted back slightly. Bertolt realized he also wasn’t wearing shoes and he was shivering.

“C’mon,” Bertolt and said softly, reaching out to touch upper arm gently, “let’s go back to sleep.”

Reiner had turned and blinked, his eyes still half-closed, and murmured to Bertolt in a tone of voice that reminded Bertolt eerily of when they were children, “I have to go home.”

“We will go home,” Bertolt whispered, getting close and taking Reiner’s hand. “We will, I promise. But first we have to go back to sleep.”

Reiner had followed him back into the bunks, and Bertolt had taken care of him—wiped the dirt off his bare feet with a rag, helped him lie down and get close—and this time, it was Reiner whose head ended up against Bertolt’s shoulder. It was only when he stopped shivering that Bertolt could fall asleep; that he could sink into the heat, touch the carving, and then rest his fingers against Reiner’s skin.

Then there was a period of quiet—no sleepwalking, no bad dreams, but also, no holding each other.

No one has ever known what to make of Bertolt and Reiner back home. They were always closer than just friends, but they weren’t lovers. What has always defined their relationship is their constant proximity to one another, how they can’t seem to be apart for very long, because one of them starts to wither. They’ve always been attached at the hip, and Bertolt can’t imagine life otherwise.

More to the point: he doesn’t want to.

His training, though, tells him that if Reiner is a potential threat to the mission, he should cut him loose. 

A week later, there’s a third incident, and Bertolt can’t find him this time.

It starts at midnight, when Bertolt has already been fast asleep and comfortably pressed against Reiner’s side. It’s colder now, so Reiner’s tolerance for Bertolt’s heat is higher than normal.

He wakes up to someone coughing in the bunks—he’s always been a light sleeper, even when he does finally fall asleep—and realizes that Reiner isn’t next to him.

“Hey,” someone whispers, “where’s Braun?”

Bertolt sticks his head out to look up at the top bunk and see Connie sticking his head over it, staring down.

“Call of the nature,” Bertolt replies with a nonchalant shrug and a forced yawn. That seems to answer every query humanity has for why someone is absent. 

“Oh, gotcha,” Connie replies, turning back over to go back to sleep.

Bertolt waits for a few minutes, and when he’s sure everyone is asleep again, he goes out to find Reiner.

It’s pitch black outside and there’s frost on the ground, and Bertolt can’t help but think how easy it would be to steam it all away. He gets antsy when he can’t flex his Titan abilities regularly; it feels like a sore, disused muscle just begging to be stretched.

He settles on increasing his own body temperature a few degrees to ward off the cold, and as he walks, the frost melts immediately, even through his shoes.

He looks everywhere he can think of—around the outbuildings, the woodshed, and even the stables—until finally, Bertolt spots a figure along the tree line.

Reiner is standing at the edge of the forest, just staring off into the blackness of the trees and what lies beyond.

“Reiner?” Bertolt says softly as he approaches from behind. He knows this goes beyond sleepwalking now; that there’s something happening here that’s far more sinister than a waking dream.

Reiner doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t even acknowledge being spoken to. He also doesn’t display any intention to do anything rash, so Bertolt comes to stand next to him.

Finally, he slowly turns his head to look at Bertolt, and his eyes are completely white. To Bertolt’s horror, they’re not the whites of human eyes, but rather, the colorless gaze of his Titan form.

“Reiner,” Bertolt hisses, “what are you doing?”

If anyone saw him like this... Bertolt doesn’t want to think about it.

“I’m lost,” he replies, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe one of the others can tell me what I’m supposed to do. Where’s Armin? Where’s Eren? They seem to know what’s going on.”

Bertolt hasn’t cried in years, and he tries not to now.

“Bertolt, did I do something bad?”

Reiner also hasn’t called Bertolt by his full name in years.

Bertolt finally cracks, and forgets everything they’re here for; just like Reiner.

“No,” he replies softly, getting close and wrapping his arms around Reiner. “But I want you to do something, okay?”

Reiner nods slowly; he’s still asleep, but he’s lost in a fog of something very different, too. He’s losing his sanity.

“Just stand here with me, and don’t pull away.”

Reiner does as asked, his eyes still glowing white since he’s a fraction of the way into shifting, and Bertolt heats up his entire body.

“It’s hot,” Reiner gasps, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Do you remember this?” Bertl asks softly. “Just trust me—I won’t burn you.”

Of course, when they used to do this, it was more a playful, adolescent experiment to see just how much damage Reiner’s armored skin could really withstand. 

“I trust you, Bertl,” Reiner says softly, and then he relaxes.

“When I try to fall asleep,” Bertolt says softly, lessening the intense heat he’s pulled out of himself, “that’s my first step.”

Reiner yawns, and finally, his eyes go back to normal.

Bertolt cools back down, and leads Reiner back to the bunks. 

They get back into bed, and Reiner seems to have worn himself out; yet he can’t sleep.

Bertolt doesn’t know whether he’s in his right mind or stuck in a dream still, until he looks over at Bertolt in the darkness and says quietly, “I remember what we did.”

Bertolt just nods without speaking, and pulls Reiner against him, his chin resting on top of Reiner’s head.

“What are the other steps?” Reiner asks. “I didn’t know you did that to fall asleep.”

Bertolt settles into the coarse sheets; they’re not soft, but they’re clean, and that’s more than he could ask for. “The second step is to find something physical to root yourself to where you are.”

“Um,” Reiner replies curiously, “how about the wall?”

Bertolt has to wonder if it’s subconscious—that Reiner would choose the wall as his touchstone—but he tries not to think about it.

“That’s fine,” Bertolt replies as Reiner reaches out to touch the smooth wall that the bunks are pushed up against.

“And the last step is that I...” Bertolt suddenly feels silly admitting it, but decides to forgo dignity in favor of trying to help Reiner, “I touch your skin or your shoulder.”

“Me?” Reiner asks in surprise, pulling away a little to look up. Bertolt is relieved to see that his eyes are completely back to normal and that he’s lucid.

“Well, you’re always next to me,” Bertolt replies logically. “It’s the final step.”

“Okay,” Reiner says softly, and brushes his fingers along Bertolt’s neck. “There.”

Bertolt closes his eyes and sighs, and rubs his own fingers over Reiner’s shoulder.

“Don’t let me go anywhere, Bertl,” Reiner whispers just as Bertolt is about to fall asleep.

“I won’t,” Bertolt says softly, ignoring the tears stinging at his eyes. “I’ll never let you go.”

The next night, when Reiner gets into bed and reaches his hand up to touch Bertolt’s skin before falling asleep, Bertolt grasps it and links their fingers together, tethering him.


End file.
